


123 - Boy Reader Gets Catfish Tattoo

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Other, Reader-Insert, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 16:09:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17429162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “I was wondering if you could write something along the lines of telling van you want to get some catfish lyrics tattooed on you???” // Boy Reader





	123 - Boy Reader Gets Catfish Tattoo

Obviously the books had to be in their relevant genre sections, and within those sections they needed to be in alphabetical order. That is how bookstores worked. At home, yours were stacked in piles all over the place. No order, but still treated with the utmost respect. At work though, you spent hours returning the books to where they belonged. 

That is what you were doing when you thought you saw Larry Lau walk past. Couldn't be, you thought and proceeded to stalk between the shelves. The guy had stopped in the cookbook section. Your heart started to race and your mouth went dry. It 110% was Larry Lau. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuck. You considered going over and talking to him, but what would you say? Hi, Catfish are the best band that's ever existed? Seemed a little intense, regardless of if it was true (which it was). Then, you realised you could play it cool and just do your fucking job. Walking over to him, he looked up and smiled as you approached.

"Hey. Can I help you with anything?"

"Ah, yeah. Lookin' for a gift for someone? It's my mate's mum's birthday," he replied. Which mate? Van. Van's mum? Mary. Was it Mary's birthday? You wanted to buy her a gift too, then. You nodded your head.

"Does she like cooking?" you asked, motioning to the cookbooks he was in front of. He made a face.

"Not really…"

"Then maybe… not a cookbook?"

"Yeah… I don't know. She's dead simple, you know? Doesn't really like stuff."

You asked more questions, gathering more information, and determined that maybe a general fiction novel would be the most appropriate choice. You picked out three that were bold and gutsy, which you assumed she'd appreciate. You left Larry to read the backs and kicked yourself for not saying anything.

By the time he came to counter, you'd finished the reshelving and were back on register. You'd taken your hoodie off and as Larry handed the two books he'd picked he saw the alligator. It was curled around with its tail in its mouth, tattooed to your skin. He smirked, looked down, then back up at you.

"Catfish, hey?" he said.

"I didn't know if I should say anything! I'm freaking out!" you joked. Larry nodded, like he was used to people saying that, then he glanced at the door as it chimed in the entrance of someone.

"Well… you're about to freak out more," he said. You followed his gaze and watched Van McCann walk over. He greeted Larry in a hug, then leant against the counter, picking up the books.

"Mate. Told you. Mary ain't gonna read a book," he said. "No offence," he added, looking at you. You managed to smile.

"He's a fan," Larry said. Van looked at you and grinned.

"Yeah? Thank you, mate," he beamed. Then, he saw it. "Whaaaaaattt?!" he called, voice high pitched and legs already moving him around to your side of the counter. He grabbed your arm and pushed your shirt sleeve up. "Is this real?" Larry laughed. You replied with a nod. "That is fuckin' class that is. Honestly, thank you,"

"Um… You're welcome? I just… I don't think you know how good your band is," you said.

"He knows," Larry said under his breath, amused at the situation.

Van kept hold of your arm and traced the lines of the alligator with his hands; you watched him study your skin. He let go and stepped back. "Sorry," he said with a warm smile.

"No. You're fine… I… I have so many questions,"

"Can the first be if I want to pay by cash or card?" Larry quickly said. You looked back, apologised, ran the books, and handed him the bag. Van stayed on the wrong side of the counter, side by side with you. The floor manager came over.

"Why's this one behind the counter? Do I know him? Why's he familiar? Is he your friend? Can't have friends behind the counter," she said quickly.

Before you had a chance to say anything, Van held out a hand to her. She took it, and he shook. "I'm Van. He's got my album cover on his arm."

She made a face of wild recognition and understanding. She looked at you and her smile was one of mischief. She knew too much. You ran a finger along your neck in a warning, behind Van. "The Catfish band, yeah? He makes us listen to all your songs every fuckin' day, mate. Even those shitty ones he ripped off YouTube," she told Van. He looked back at you and smiled. "Still can't be behind the counter, mate, no matter how much of a rockstar you are."

Van swapped sides, standing next to Larry again. "We're gonna go for a drink. Do you have a break soon? Wanna come?" Van asked you. Stomach flipping, you could have puked across the counter. He ran his hands through his hair and looked at you in amazement. "Can't believe you got a fucking tattoo of us," he said. You nodded, which didn't really make sense, but you were on the verge of dying. He looked at your manager. "Can we steal him for a bit?" Looking over at her, she read it in your face. You would have quit right then and there if she'd said no. You would have happily not paid rent that week, and ate only one meal per day.

"Please. Take him. If I have to hear him try to work out what the stupid 'foot too gun' lyric means out loud one more time, I'm going to stab him," she said. Van and Larry both laughed.

"If you think he writes metaphors, you're gonna be disappointed," Larry told you.

"Mmmm… My money was on it means nothing,"

"Just fits the guitar," Van said. "Come on." You grabbed your hoodie from under the counter and walked around. Van wrapped one arm around Larry's shoulders, and the other around yours. "Alright, lads, drinks on me."


End file.
